Two Faced Woman. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
I am unpleasant,” he informed her affably. “Ask around. You won’t find anyone with a good word to say for me. And I don’t just mean the crooks.”
“I believe it.”
“So the question is, what are you going to do to convince me that you’re on the side of the angels?”
“Sock you in the jaw,” she said darkly.
He grinned. “Don’t try it. You caught me by surprise with that rugby tackle, but I’m on guard now. You wrecked a good case, but I’m going to be reasonable about it because you can be useful to me.”
“Suppose I don’t want to be useful to you?” she demanded crossly.
“Let’s say it’s in your own interests to convince me that you’re who and what you say you are.”
His eyes were hard and uncompromising. Debbie faced him defiantly, but she knew that he held the high cards. “So how am I going to be useful?”
“I need a woman to work undercover with me.”
“There are plenty of policewomen for that.”
“None who are suitable. This job requires special skills, the kind you’ve proved you have in abundance. Do you know Lucky’s Place?”
“I’ve heard of it. It’s a nightclub. Very glitzy and expensive.”
“It’s also a gambling establishment where a great deal of money gets lost and won. The perfect laundering setup for drug money, and probably a drug distribution center.”
“Is that how it’s being used?”
“I’m sure of it. The key lies with the man who owns and runs it, Abel Driver, known to his friends and enemies as ‘Lucky.’ He’s a crook who uses the nightclub as a cover for crime, but proving it is another matter. I plan to get a job on the inside, but that’s not enough. Lucky has a weakness for women. You can get closer to him than I ever could. It’s no use hoping for anything from Liz. She’ll be on the run by now, if she’s got any sense.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I don’t think so. What?”
“My professional pride.”
“Your what?” he asked hilariously.
“My professional pride,” she repeated through gritted teeth. “I happen to be on a case at the moment. You may think it’s just a big joke—”
“If you conduct them all as you did today I think I’ll die laughing,” he retorted without any sign of amusement whatsoever.
She resisted the temptation to toss her drink over him. “I’m on a case,” she repeated. “I can’t undertake another job until Elroy Speke is stopped.”
“Are you out of your mind? You’ve blown your own case as thoroughly as you’ve blown mine.”
“Then you’ll have to help me with him, won’t you?”
“What? Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than pick up the pieces after your mistakes?”
“Not at the moment you haven’t, because without my help you can’t pursue Lucky Driver.”
“And I’m going to have your help—if you know what’s good for you.”
Debbie gave him a sudden mischievous smile that brought a tremor of remembered enchantment to his loins and a scowl to his face. “Oh, I’ll help you, Detective Inspector,” she declared with a theatrical emphasis that warned him something was coming. “At least, I’ll do my very best. But I can’t promise how good my best will be when I’m so worried about Elroy Speke and my poor client...”
“Somebody should have strangled you at birth,” he growled.
“Will you help me neutralize Speke?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll neutralize him myself, without any help from you. That way I can be sure there won’t be any foul-ups.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it!”
“I won’t.”
“Now all that remains is for you to tell me where I can get hold of your photographer.”
“What do you want him for?”
“Because I’m not going to stand for that kind of picture of me on the open market. I’m going to get his pictures and then I’m going to put the fear of God into him. Now, who is he and where do I find him?”
“I never betray a source.”
“You’ll betray this one.”
“Like hell I will.” Debbie set her chin, her eyes glinting with defiance.
After a moment Jake shrugged. He could recognize mulelike stubbornness when he saw it, and there was no point in fighting about this when his contacts would probably enable him to track the man down. He’d gotten a reasonable look at him. “Give me your address,” he said. “I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.” He took the paper she handed him and said, “Cancel anything else you have on hand and hold yourself in readiness.”
Debbie gritted her teeth. “I can see why you’re so popular.”
“I never wasted time on popularity, Miss Harker. It never put anyone behind bars. Now, let’s get out of here. I’m busy if you’re not.”
He walked out of the hotel bedroom, forcing her to follow. “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” she said scathingly.
For answer, he turned so that she was forced to back against the wall. “You’ve only just got a glimpse of how charming I can be. There’ll be others—”
“Hey...” she said suddenly, for she’d seen something over his shoulder.
“Just a moment, I haven’t finished.”
“But there’s—”
“Be quiet and listen. I don’t want to work with you because, frankly, your working methods aren’t impressive, but circumstances are going to force it on me. But let’s set the ground rules. I give the orders and you take them. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, mon capitane!” She saluted ironically.
“Are you trying to be funny?” he asked coldly.
“Would you know the difference?”
“Don’t push me, Miss Harker.”
“Then don’t lecture me about your brilliant methods. While your attention was occupied trying to scare me a man came up in the lift, took one look at us and went down again. I strongly suspect he was Elroy Speke.”
Jake swore and made a dash for the lift, but it wouldn’t respond to his furious pressure on the button. “He must have jammed it open downstairs,” Debbie observed. “It’s too late now. Which means we’ve both managed to lose him today, and I’d say that left us about even. Wouldn’t you, Inspector?”
* * *
The next day Debbie contacted Chief Superintendent Manners, her old mentor, and arranged to meet him for a drink after work. He choked with laughter at the story. “All right, it wasn’t that funny,” she said crossly, watching his massive shoulders shake.
“It’s hilarious,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You and Jake Garfield, crossing each other’s wires. I’ll bet he was fit to die.”
“Fit to kill, more like. Me.”
“If you mucked up one of his cases I’m not surprised.”
“He mucked up one of mine,” Debbie said, seething.